Open Door Mission
by BoundLight
Summary: Sam and Dean are on a hunt when they see a framiliar face in an unexpected place. That man can't be Cas... can it? Dean/Cas kinda, One shot, Spoilers for season 7, with the exception of "Adventures in Babysitting" which I admit, I haven't seen yet.


If you didn't read it in the description, read it now. Spoilers for all of season seven except for… "Adventures in Babysitting." I haven't seen that one yet.

Also… I know I haven't written in a while. School was hell. Then my computer committed suicide. Then financial troubles smacked me with a fucking bat. Repeatedly. So! This is me trying to brush the dust off. Sorry if it sucks.

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><p>Dean walked out the door of MultiCorp International loosening the tie around his throat. Sam stepped out behind him. "Man, I hate these monkey suits."<p>

Sam watched Dean's casual stride, a slight smile on his face. Bobby's death had really taken it out of them, but Dean had been the worst; somehow after Hell Sam had found away to see the positive sides of life, but he knew Dean didn't have that. For his brother, the world was a dark and bleak place filled with chaos and agony. He had been afraid Dean wouldn't get over Bobby's death, that this would be the final straw, or worse, he'd put on a happy face and pretend like he had gotten over it as be broke apart inside. He couldn't be 100% sure, but Dean honestly looked like he was getting better, like he wasn't just putting on a face. He bumped his shoulder companionably with his brother. "That diner on Main Street?"

"Only if they've got pie." Dean said. He pulled out his keys as they neared the Impala and petted her roof.

"Father James!" They heard a small girl yell across the street. "Father James! Father James!"

Sam smiled at the small girl; she wore an adorable dress covered in bright yellow sunflowers, and had a grin across her face that nearly spanned ear to ear. "Father James!" She squealed again.

A priest stepped out of the vandalized doorway Sam had originally overlooked. Closer inspection showed it to be a small church. Bars enclosed the windows, and the stone work around the stair and doorway was broken and cracking. The priest kneeled and the girl ran into his arms. He picked her up with a practiced ease. "Mary, what have I told you about running around on your own?"

Sam frowned. The voice was… familiar; deeper than a person would expect for such a small man and yet… fitting.

Dean was frozen.

She clapped her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not alone! I'm with you!"

The priest laughed. "Yes, I suppose you are."

Dean turned. "No."

"Dean?"

Dean ignored him and rushed into the street. Tires squealed and horns blared as some drivers tried to stop and others quickly jerked around them; Dean continued regardless. Sam hurriedly followed his brother, waving an apologetic hand at the now swearing drivers. If they were going to subtlety, they'd failed. They now had the priest's full attention. He frowned at them, and for a moment Sam thought he might run. Instead he knelt again, setting the oblivious child on her feet. "Mary? I need you to go home, alright? Lock the door behind you."

"Father James?"

The priest quickly looked back at them, then petted a hand down the girls arms. "Run home now. Your parents are probably wondering where you are."

Mary still had a confused look on her face, but she nodded obediently and ran off down the street. Father James stood up and turned and faced them, waving a hand at the busy street behind them. "You two really should be more caref –"

Dean fisted his hands in the priest's shirt, almost dragging him off his feet.

"Dean!"

Dean ignored Sam and rushed the priest, forcing him back into the alley behind them, further and further into the darkness, away from the busy street. Once they were far from prying eyes he shoved Father James into the rough, graffiti stained wall of the church. "What are you?" Dean growled.

"What? I'm, I'm a priest! My name is James No –"

Dean jerked the man forward, only to slam him back into the wall. "If you say _Novak _so help me…"

"I don't understand."

"Don't give me that shit! Not when you're wearing that face! Who are you? Who sent you?" Dean drew back a fist.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. He grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him back a step. Dean shook him off, crowding the priest again.

"Look at him, Sam."

"Dean, let him go."

"Look!"

Sam looked at the priest's startled blue eyes and paused.

"And you're telling me to back off?"

"Listen, guys –" The priest started.

"Shut up!" Dean barked.

The priest held out his hands placating. "It's alright. Calm down."

Dean shook him hard. "How dare you!"

In his head, James ran down his options; there weren't many. The two men, Sam and Dean, he supposed, were taller than him, and undoubtedly stronger. When he'd first been assigned to a church in the slums he had prepared himself for the likelihood of being attacked, but he still wasn't quite prepared now that the time had come.

"He could be Cas." Sam said.

"He's not Cas!" Dean growled.

"How do you know?"

A frown twisted across Dean's face. He shoved the priest back into the wall and released his hold.

James remained still. He didn't want to antagonize the two men, the one angry one really, into doing something they'd regret. To stifle the fear now racing through his veins, he closed his eyes, various prayers slipping through his mind as he readied himself in case things got out of hand and God called him back sooner than he'd expected.

"You're coming with us." James' eyes snapped open as Dean's hands darted forward, twisting James' arm in his hands and shoving him towards the road.

"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want –" James whispered.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped.

"Let him pray if he wants to pray." Sam said.

"Not around me. God is strictly not allowed, not after everything we went through. God's not there, _you_," he shoved James again, "_know_ he's not there."

"Then I'm in the wrong profession…" James couldn't stop himself from saying.

When they stepped back into the light of the sidewalk, James' eyes desperately sought out the doors of the church. "Please, Deacon." He whispered; he wasn't sure what Deacon Thomas would be able to do in the situation, but even the sight of the man would give him faith at this point. He frowned when the door remained firmly closed, and he was pushed forward once again, the man behind him propelling him into the street.

"Let's go." Dean said, shoving him towards a black Chevy Impala.

James looked at the car with dread; once he got in that thing they could take him anywhere. It suddenly settled on him how serious the situation was. He wasn't a strong man, but he _was_ quick. He moved fast, twisting out of Dean's path and away from Sam.

He meant to dart away from them, get back to the church maybe, find something to bolt the door… but Dean was faster. In an instant he had James' afrm twisted up behind him to the point of breaking, and an arm wrapped dangerously around his throat, forcing his head back, cutting off his air supply. James went rigid in his arms.

"Dean." Sam said, his voice tense.

A car's horn blared as it sped around them. James wondered how they could have missed his situation. Then again, no one called the police around here. They probably figured he'd pissed someone off, and in away, he had.

"I know what I'm doing." Dean ground out.

"Do you? This seems pretty bad to me."

"What? You want me to let him go? Look at him! You can see what he is!"'

"I'm not saying it's him! I'm saying Cas was a good friend, and we owe it to him to make sure that this _really isn't him_ before we do anything." Sam moved in close, towering over Dean, and thus towering over James. "God brought Cas back three times _that we know of_, he's brought you and me back countless times. How do you know this isn't _really_ him?"

For just a second Dean's hold loosened. Then he reached around, jerked open the door of the Impala and shoved him in.

James fell against the leather seat and winced when the door slammed shut.

Outside he watched the two argue, then the doors opened and they slid in, neither looking at him as they sped away. James watched the church disappear around a corner and closed his eyes. It was time. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me…"

Dean laughed and cranked up the radio. James couldn't hear himself speak, but he finished the prayer all the same, crossed himself, and almost immediately felt better. He wasn't sure what was going to follow; it was in God's hands now.

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><p>The Impala pulled up outside an old motel on the outskirts of the city. James barely got a look at it before Dean dragged him out of the car and shoved him through a door on the first floor; James was almost certain there were no witnesses to his entry. Once the door was closed Dean breezed past him, heading for the kitchen area. He dragged a chair from under the table and sat it roughly in the middle of the floor.<p>

James shrunk away from it, knowing it was for him.

Sam and Dean both grabbed an arm and forced him in the chair; James wasn't sure where they found_ chains_ of all things, but within moments his arms were securely bound behind him. Dean grinned. "Iron." They moved off behind him. He wasn't sure what they were doing, but there was the sound of heavy things being placed on a table. Every horror movie the priest had ever seen flashed behind his eyes.

Dean walked back into this line of sight, a bottle in his hand. He threw its contents into James' face.

James blinked. That was unexpected; it didn't smell funny, and it didn't burn... curious, he licked his lips. "Water?"

Dean frowned. He took something from Sam's hand and turned back to James. James pushed himself back in his chair at the sight of glinting light off the silver blade. Dean moved in close, almost straddling James' lap.

Dean hesitated at his wide blue gaze.

"Dean?" Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head and pressed the flat of the blade to James' cheek.

The man flinched, but otherwise didn't react.

Dean dropped the knife to his arm and made a shallow cut.

James whimpered, and tried to pull away.

Dean grabbed his arm and analyzed the wound. It wasn't smoking, and James' reaction was normal considering the situation. Dean handed the knife to Sam and accepted a plant mister.

Dean tugged James' shirt open and sprayed him.

The skin remained unburned; James didn't make a sound.

Dean seemed unnerved; he backed away from the chair, the mister falling to the ground.

James looked at him expectantly.

Dean swallowed; he looked distinctly paler than usual. He found his way over to the window and closed his eyes leaning against the glass. Sam placed his hand on James' shoulder. "What do you want to do, Dean?"

Dean slumped further in on himself.

Sam squeezed James' shoulder. "Hungry?"

James wasn't sure what to do or say; he nodded jerkily. Sam smiled and bent behind the chair, unwinding the chains. Once James could, he brought his hands together, and tried to rub life back into his hands. "He can't go out like that." Dean mumbled.

James looked down at himself. He didn't see anything wrong with his black outfit, though he self-consciously buttoned up his shirt. Dean went to the bed closest to the door and reached into a duffle bag. He picked out a pair of pants and a worn Metallica shirt, and shoved them into James' arms, pointing to the bathroom.

James walked calmly to the room, locking the door behind him. The second the door shut he shuttered and fell to his knees, sobbing into the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, but his lungs felt constricted, he couldn't calm himself. He settled for gasping into the cloth in his hands, hoping the two outside couldn't hear him, his tears soaking into the fabric.

His eyes opened when he smelt something; it was the shirt Dean had put in his arms. It smelled familiar – calming. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning away, ashamed that he felt comforted it by the enemies scent, but he couldn't help himself; the door was closed in any case, it wasn't like the brothers would ever know. James buried his face in the black material of the shirt, and just breathed. Almost instantly he felt his lungs open and his heart slow. He gave himself a few more minutes until he felt he could compose himself. He changed quickly, folding his clothing neatly afterward.

The jeans Dean had found for him were too large and hung loosely off his hips no matter how much he tugged at them. The shirt was too large as well, though not as drastically. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. While he was still in his usual black, he looked… different. Younger.

There was a knock at the door. "You okay in there?"

"Uh. Yeah." James replied. He grabbed his clothing and opened the door. Dean's eyes widened.

James meekly ducked his head and slipped by him, putting his small pile of clothing on the table. The whole situation was confusing him. The two were watching him with a cautious air; if James hadn't known any better he'd almost think they were afraid of him, or at least apprehensive of him. Dean cleared his throat and moved closer to him. "Do you remember anything?"

"Any what?"

"Anything that happened before."

"Before _what_? The chair? The… ally?" James turned fully into Dean. He was normally a fairly calm man, but this whole situation was starting to wear him down. "You kidnap me, throw water in my face, _cut_ me, and now you want to have a heart to heart? What is _with_ you?"

Dean seemed surprised by this outburst. "We just had to make sure you were… human."

James barked a laugh. "As opposed to _what_?"

"A leviathan for one. Or a shape shifter. I'd say 'demon' though Crowley has been doing a good job keeping those bastards away from us; it's usually a good thing to check for though."

He said it simply, as though that didn't sound completely insane. James gave him an incredulous look. Before he could say anything, perhaps question the man's sanity, Sam was beside him. "Let's talk this over while we eat, alright?"

Dean grunted in response, his face twisting into a pained frown. James had seen the look in many of his practitioners; self hatred was always an easy thing for him to spot. When he cast Sam an inquisitive look, he received a forced smile and a firm hand on his elbow as they lead him back out to the car, though this time no one shoved him in the back.

"Where are we heading?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged and tossed him the keys. Sam looked shocked for a moment, then slid into the driver's seat. He turned to Dean. Dean glanced into the rearview mirror so quick James thought he imagined it. He wasn't sure _why_, but the man suddenly seemed… almost heartbroken. "Wherever."

Sam frowned, but didn't push the matter.

James slumped back against the leather seat as the Impala growled to life and pulled out onto the road heading further away from the city, further away from every landmark he knew. With the odd silence coming from the front and nothing else to focus on, his eyes traced the cars that the Impala passed. He briefly considered trying to get attention, but the action seemed hopeless. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, and tried to convince himself that the car wasn't on it's way to dump him in a shallow grave. He was so distracted by his own dark thoughts that he missed the frequent glances Sam and Dean cast him.

The Impala passed the state boarder and cruised through the suburbs of the surrounding area. When the buildings began to thin the car slowed, and pulled into a dirt area that was being used as a parking lot for Joe's Diner. There were two other cars in the lot; through the wide glass windows James could see there were no customers. The cars probably belonged to whoever was on shift.

Dean exited quickly. James thought he'd slam the door, but instead he waited, giving James a sidelong glance when he was slow to exit. The air outside the car was crisp, and while both brothers were wearing jackets, James was now in a thin t shirt. He shivered. "Wait." Dean said held out a hand expectantly for the keys, and went around to the trunk.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

The trunk slammed shut.

Dean shook out a long, tan overcoat and draped it over James' shoulders. The young priest wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but the coat was warm and it felt just as comforting as the shirt had been.

"Let's go." Dean said, clapping a hand on James' shoulder. "I'm starving."

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><p>Did you know James Novak actually has brown eyes? I did too! Eye choice here was intentional, I will know if certain commenters didn't read this statement...<p>

I must admit it is so very strange that I haven't post in a *long* while, stranger that I have a lot of stories I'm working on too… I'd promise more activity (fingers crossed), but I'd hate to then fail to follow that. I'll try to make sure the stories to come are better than the above though... but I had to post it.

Oh, and you know what totally makes me write faster? Reviews…


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